Frustrating Girl, Part Deux.

All right, I have to confess that after I read your last blog entry, I quite naturally assumed that you were quietly wondering where I'd run off to and why I hadn't contacted you again, after our last date. I've been standing in the shower, practicing how I would respond to you. Looking for the tone of voice, that would express my dissapointment, without betraying my resentment. I was planning on reminding you that YOU actually broke things off, by not responding to my emails.
Something which I was pretty sure you'd forgotten.

And then, this morning, I read your latest blog entry and you're railing on about your ex. The guy "who broke [your] heart" and about how "wonderful things are, right now, between [you two]" and I am realzing that the reason why I haven't heard from you, is because you're busy off chasing this other guy.

You are not staying home wondering where I am.
You are home, sucking face with this other fellow.

Ugh.

I don't mean this disrespectfully, but you're making a stupid, stupid choice there. To pursue something with this wishy washy guy, who has a history of playing with your emotions and DUMPING YOU for no reason, is foolish, foolish, foolish. I don't pick up hot frying pans with my bare hands anymore, because I've learned my lesson, by being burned before. You are willingly heading towards some more heartbreak and this time, you can't come to me for comfort and support.
This time, I know what the deal is.
I know what's going on.
And now I know that things aren't "over" between you.

Ah well.

Maybe you're one of those girls who are irresistably drawn to tragic love affairs because that is what you think a relationship is supposed to be like. Lots of crying and "Why won't you love me?!?" and throwing things, when you get upset. I don't have patience for that sort of thing. It wouldn't work for us, after all, if that's what you need. The first time you threw something at me, would be the last time you'd throw something at me. Because you'd never be invited back near any of my more throwable things... ever again.

So, I'm really letting you go, little girl.
No more perusing your blog because I miss you. And secretly wondering how you are doing, when you're not around. No more flirting with you and bumping up against you, when we're around, to see your coy smile. No more hand holding and touching your delicate, soft hair.

We'll keep our night of suckface and rolling and tumbling on the couch, our little secret, okay?

If you want to tell him that you're "turning down dates left and right because you've chosen him and that there are no silver medals for other guys", well, who am I to dispute it?
That's what you're selling and he's buying. Why would I want to diminish his enjoyment of his time with you, with something as pesky and as refutable, as reality.

Call me when you grow up a little.

Or when you figure out what you lost.

COB out...